Infinitesimal
by silver-thunder-green-lighting
Summary: Infinitesimal: immeasurably or incalculably minute. When two children are born at the wrong time, the ripples are sent through time with unbelievable effects, both good and bad. Prequel to Intangible, contains genderbending. Image belongs to viria13 on deviantArt.


In - fin - i - tes - i - mal [in - fin - i - tes -uh - muh - l], adj. Indefinitely or exceedingly small; minute. A study on the butterfly effect and how two people changed the world forever.

* * *

The butterfly's wings

When you drop a stone in a pond it creates ripples. They spread until they reach their barriers and bounce back, collide, multiply, then eventually lose momentum and the water settles back into its appearance of serenity. But what happens when there are no barriers? How far would the change carry itself and what would it affect before it ran out?

In the year 1942, two children were born completely healthy at normal weights. Utterly unremarkable but for one thing: they weren't supposed to exist yet.

I suppose we'll find out.

* * *

April 27, 1942

A man traced a familiar path in his office as he paced. One floor up and twenty feet over his wife was giving birth to their fourth child, had been for the last fourteen hours. He had no idea how his wife was doing, having been kicked out of the room as soon as the Healer's arrived, and he was concerned. His brow furrowed and he couldn't help but wonder, had his other children taken so long? He hadn't been present for their births.

He began pacing again, not really sure when he had stopped. Up, down. Up, down. He briefly considered opening his secret library, composed of muggle fantasy novels, but his child could be born any second and he had no wish for anyone to find his secret vice. No one, not even his wife Irma whom he told most things nowadays, knew about it, and if anyone ever did he'd never hear the end of it. A Black, reading fiction? and _Muggle_ fiction at that. Pollux snorted, it would probably make front page news. His wry humor faded as quickly as it came and he sighed. All his supposing did not matter, he didn't think he could sit still long enough to read a single page in his current frame of mind.

Back and forth, back and forth. He changed direction, just for something to do, and ran a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time that evening. Or was it morning? Back and forth he walked again, back and forth... just like a pendulum. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly, it must be morning if he was thinking of clocks. His door swung open suddenly and Pollux pivoted toward it mid-step in expectation. He was not disappointed; the robe assaulting his eyes were attached to the second Healer to spin out of his fireplace so many hours earlier. The portly woman beamed at him, not put off by his stone facade (always on, never betraying even the barest hint of his emotions) in the least.

"Come meet your son."

* * *

On May 13 of the same year, not much more than two weeks later, a man as close to the opposite of the esteemed barrister Pollux Black as you could find was busy showing their one shared quirk: he was pacing a hole through the floor with anxiety. He too was about to become a father, though in a vastly different setting. Being muggles, the Tonks' were having their child in the local hospital where it was common to do so and they had the necessary equipment. Here Theodore Tonks differed again from his future in-law: he paced in erratic circles. Every time he completed five he would glance at the clock, which was a pointless exercise at best because it took a minute maximum for him to complete a circuit and only served to make him more anxious. A brief thought flashed through his mind and the dread that filled him made his legs so weak he collapsed into the nearest flimsy hospital chair, what if there was something wrong? He didn't know anything about giving birth, he barely knew anything about babies. Was it normal to take this long? His hands moved to his temples in a futile attempt to ward off the worry-induced headache he had given himself.

A last glance at the clock confirmed that he hadn't been here long, a mere hour and a half compared to his wife's four. No doubt he'd have gotten here a good fifteen minutes later if he hadn't all but flown the car here, but there was no way he wasn't going to at least be in the building when his child was born, and really, what else did she expect would happen when she left a note that vague?

_Water broke, going to hospital._

_-E_

He'd found it scribbled on the back of an advert crammed in the door frame and he'd been gone before it hit the ground. Not a single word on how she was doing or when she'd left, he'd had to ask the receptionist to fill him in. A tap on the shoulder startled him out of his thoughts and brought a curious cocktail of emotions to the surface that he didn't bother untangling; judging by the smile the woman was sporting it was good news and time to go meet his child. He leapt up immediately, all emotions but the positive one's shoved to a back corner in his mind to feel at a later date.

"So, son or daughter, or am I not allowed to ask," asked Theodore cheerfully.

"Ask your wife yourself, we're here," said the nurse as they pulled up alongside a metal door, distinguishable from its fellows only by the numbered plastic plaque on the side. Esther's tired face greeted him inside as she held up a miniscule bundle.

"Come meet your daughter."

* * *

A/N: This is my first chaptered story, so feel free to be as hard on me as you want; I'm writing this primarily because I want to improve my writing and because I now have nothing better to do on summer break (curse the stairs at my sister's apartment, I still can't walk without crutches).


End file.
